


The Tale of Hamare

by DriftingAlongTheWind



Category: The Lord of the Rings (Movies)
Genre: not the books, since i was more familiar with the movies than the books when i wrote this, this is specifically following the movies
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2020-05-11
Updated: 2020-05-12
Packaged: 2021-03-02 20:21:03
Rating: Teen And Up Audiences
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 2
Words: 4,483
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/24122767
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/DriftingAlongTheWind/pseuds/DriftingAlongTheWind
Summary: These are the tales of Hamare, son of Thedin. Pretty much during the events of Lord of the Rings: The Two Towers and Return of the King. The main purpose is to tell the story from the perspective of someone who isn't the hero of the story.





	1. The Lord of the Golden Halls

**Author's Note:**

> To set this up, there are a few things to mention. This is the first fanfiction I have ever written. It's about 4 years old at this point, truth be told. I sent it through a bit of a rewrite, mainly to kinda polish up some parts of the writing, but I kept most of the original writing. 
> 
> And, one thing to mention before the people who prefer the books get mad at me: This story is based off of the movies, not the books. I threw in references to the books, but it mainly follows the movies. This is because when I was writing this, I knew more about the movies than I knew about the books. 
> 
> Either way, here is the story!!

Everyone in Edoras was scared. Terrified, really. In fact, nearly everyone in Rohan was, too. Isengard was attacking the countryside, and the king was doing nothing about it. Every attack gave more and more evidence that Saruman had become an enemy of Rohan, the bodies of the orcs bearing the white hand of Isengard, or the fact that Mordor could not have enough power to fight both Gondor and Rohan at once. However, each and every time they asked for help from the king, they received a letter from the right hand of the king, saying that the evidence was not enough. No matter what they said, they got back the same letter. “Not enough evidence”. Everything they sent to the palace as evidence was never returned. 

However, things were much worse than they realized. 

Several months ago, King Theodin of Rohan started acting rather odd. Eomer, nephew of the King, noticed it as well, but silenced all rumors. He did not know who to trust, and didn’t want to scare the people of Rohan any more than they already were. There was one group of people that he knew he could trust: the palace guards. However, the kings’ right hand man, Grima Wormtongue, had hired several new guards, people that Eomer didn’t know. Everyone noticed that Wormtongue was also beginning to become more of an interpreter of the kings’ will, since the king refused to talk in anything more than a whispered few words. This only got worse and worse as time went on. Eomer felt that he would be the next in a long, really long, line of men who were exiled, or killed. These exiled men were the men who were loyal to the king, and challenged the will of Grima, stating that he was putting words into the kings’ mouth. Eomer had to get a man who would be overlooked, who could ask questions without people asking how he knew these things. Hamare, son of Thedin, was the perfect choice. He was a brave man, but he never wanted to be in the forefront of things. All Eomer had to do was convince the man to help.

Eomer tracked Hamare down while he was on his way back from the beacon. 

“How may I serve you, My Lord?” Hamare bowed deeply. 

Eomer pulled the man into an alleyway. Not the best area, but it’ll have to do. “I need your help, Hamare. I need to find out what has happened with the king. But I can’t do it alone. I need someone like you. Can I trust you, Hamare, son of Thedin?”

Hamare straightened his back proudly. “I would be honored to, Lord Eomer.”

The day was several days after Eomer had been exiled by Wormtongue. The kings’ son had died in a battle with Isengard orcs, and the king seemed not to have even heard the news. Hamare remained true to his words, and asked some of the guards about the king, but nobody knew any more than Hamare. Hamare was going to sneak out of Edoras to go find help if nothing came. If help was indeed coming, Harame knew that it had to happen soon. The king was now a withered old man, hunched over, and covered in furs as if he were constantly cold, even though the day was hot and sunny, with no clouds in the sky. Hamare was on watch duty now, standing on the wall. Always a pleasure to be standing out on top of the wall, with nothing hiding him from the elements. Hamare was about to walk to the one spot that provided some protection when he noticed some movement coming from the north. There were horse-riders in the distance, riding hard and fast towards the Mark. There were three horses, three men, and one child. As they got closer, Harame saw how wrong he was. 

Harame saw that the four people were in fact: 2 men, one seemed to be a Ranger, the other was an old man in gray robes. There was also 1 elf, lightly sitting in his saddle, yet determined. He seemed princely, and yet also like he had seen the forces of war. The most surprising is that he shared a saddle with a dwarf. The dwarf was short and stocky, and yet seemed that he could crush any enemy that came before him. Harame turned his gaze back to the men as they approached. There was a man who seemed to be Gandalf, and yet his beard was… different somehow. Hamare had never seen Gandalf the Gray before, but he had heard the tales, of course. They told of him as a man with a long gray beard, and a wooden branch of a staff. This man seemed more regal than that, with a trimmed white beard and a white staff. The other man, the ranger, wore rough clothes, and yet had an air of elegance, as if he had some sort of regal blood in him. 

Hamare dashed to the doors, taking the shortcut that led straight to the entryway to the king, instead of the winding road for horses. He told the guards there about who he saw coming, then took a spot to the side as they approached. 

The strangers were introduced as Aragorn the Ranger, Gimli, son of Gloin, Legolas, son of Thranduil, and Gandalf the White. Hamare frowned at that, the tales said he was gray. 

Per the decree of the king, they were relieved of their weapons at the door. As the men walked into the throne room, Hamare followed with the rest of his group. Hamare did not listen as the visitors spoke to Grima. It was useless. The king had no more authority. It would take a miracle to save them at this point.

There was a small conversation between the Grima and Gandalf, then a massive uproar when Wormtongue told the men to attack. The guards all ran up to the man, elf, and dwarf only to be beaten down with empty fists. The men were routed by three unarmed men, even thought they were the most skilled soldiers in Edoras. Harame knew that this meant that they were starting to doubt Wormtongue, which was good. Maybe there was yet hope for the future of Rohan. 

Gandalf walked through the crowd of fighting, approaching the King. Despite the raging fight around him, he was never even touched by an attack. The fighting was over soon, and Harame was standing in the shadows, refusing to attack the three figures in the room. Not when they meant possible redemption from this fate. Gandalf made an attempt to free the King from the curse, but was met with weak laughter from the King. “You have no power here, Gandalf the Grey.”

Gandalf threw off his cloak, revealing the radiant white garments underneath. Harame felt a rush of power from the old man, which had quite the effect on the King. Theoden was slammed into his chair, and seemed to be fighting an invisible force pressing him into the throne. Gandalf raised his staff, throwing the king into the throne again. Theoden started speaking as if he was someone else, controlling the King. “Theoden is MINE!” 

With one last shove, Gandalf was finished, leaning back on his staff. Eowyn ran forward, catching Theodin before he fell to the floor. To Hamares’ amazement, the king started to change before his eyes, his hair darkening to their old color, his beard disappearing, his strength returning. Harame nearly cheered, for his king was back. Gone was Grimas’ lies, gone was Sarumans’ influence. King Theoden, son of Thengil, Lord of Rohan, was returned to his throne.

Grima Wormtongue was exiled from Rohan within the hour, nearly killed by the King. Later, however, Harame wished that Aragorn had not stopped the King from killing Grima.


	2. Helms Deep

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> The march to Helms Deep begins, and Hamare finds more struggle than he bargained for

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> This was a fun one. It is actually a fair amount different than the original I wrote. I added in a lot more dialogue, and even introduced a character that wasn't in the original story. Hope you enjoy!!

The next several days passed in a blur. The king was back in his rightful place, and had sent for Eomer and the others who were exiled, but it would be days for them to come back. They needed to either fight back, or run away. Hamare felt that there was now some hope, since Gandalf had come back from the dead, and was now Gandalf the White. Or rather, as the wizard had put it, “Saruman as he should have been.” That made no sense to Hamare since this was obviously Gandalf and not Saruman, but Hamare knew better than to get into the affairs of the Valar.

An argument broke out in the throne room, where Aragorn and Theodin were discussing what should be done. Aragorn wanted to fight back, and take the fight straight to Isengard, but the king wanted to make to Helms Deep, the impenetrable fortress in the mountains. Aragorn eventually had to concede to Theodin, but he was obviously not happy about it. Hamare wondered to himself why Theodin even allowed that small argument. 

“What do you think of Aragorn?” Hamare asked his fellow guardsman after they were relieved of duty.

“Aragorn? Well, I hope he does better than his forefathers.” The guardsman, Liren, said. 

Hamare pulled off his bracers, trying to figure out what that meant, but he couldn’t figure it out. 

“Aragorn, Son of Arathorn? Gods, Hamare, did you pay attention at all to the histories? Aragorn is Isildurs’ Heir.” Liren set his poleaxe on the rack and raised an eyebrow at Hamare. “You joining us at the inn tonight?”

Hamare laughed, and followed Liren out the door, promising he would be there, while silently agreeing with him. Hopefully, Aragorn would turn out better than Isildur.

A few days later, the population of Edoras was on a full march to Helms’ Deep, the strongest hold in Middle Earth. Nobody has taken the hold in centuries, so it was the obvious place to go. But if Grima had returned to Saruman, he might tell of the keep, and they might find out some hidden weakness…

A figure caught Hamares’ attention. Legolas, the elf, was standing on top of the hill, when he suddenly dashed forward in the direction of the advance scouts. Hamare could barely hear the sounds of some beast ahead. Aragorn appeared from around the rock, sprinting back, shouting at Theodin”

“WARGS! WE’RE UNDER ATTACK!”

Hamare stumbled at those words. Wargs, the giant wolves of Isengard, ridden by orcs. The bane of the horse breeders of Rohan. Hamare kicked his horse forward, almost leading the charge against the Wargs. Hamare had personal vendetta against the wargs that stretched back several years. Only Eomer and the king knew that he was truly a refugee from a town that was ravaged by wild wargs, killing his family in front of him. The only reason that he survived is because he let his mother shove him into a cupboard. He survived out of cowardice. Now, he would survive because of his duty to protect the entire population of Edoras, and the king. And, because he refused to die at the hands of such beasts.

With a mighty cry, the two sides collided. As was the case with most battles of this size, it was over shortly, merely a handful of minutes. However, against the wargs, there were heavy casualties among the men of Rohan. Hamare did not remember too much of the battle, but remembered enough to give him nightmares for years to come. He remembered firing arrows from his horse, felling at least 3 orcs until a warg crashed into his horse, sending him flying off. He remembered using his sword to fell another orc, until he was left facing an officer orc. Hamare fought hard, and as he slew the officer, his shoulder exploded into agony. Hamare fell, clutching his shoulder, and would have been finished if another man of Rohan hadn’t killed the orc that was putting away a bow, and drawing a dagger. There was an arrow sticking out from his shoulder, but it had not made it far into him, so he just pulled it out and stood, ready for whatever else came next

That was when Hamare saw the sight that would haunt him above all others. Aragorn seemed to be holding onto a warg for dear life, but nobody would try to hang onto a warg like that, especially as it ran through a battle. Perhaps Aragorn was attached somehow. Hamare tried to run to help, but then he saw that they were heading right for the cliff, and knew that he had a few precious moments to save Aragorn. He pulled out his bow, started to aim at the warg, pulled back the bow ,and his left shoulder exploded into pain like he had never felt. He felt something tear, and he fell writhing to the ground. One of his fellow soldiers ran to his side, and Hamare pointed to Aragorn. He was too late. They both watched helplessly as the man and the beast ran right off the cliff. As the soldier ran off to get help for Hamare, he watched as Legolas and Gimli ran to the edge. Their faces said it all. Aragorn, the last of the line of Isildur, was dead. 

Killed not by a warg, but by a fall off a cliff. Hamare hung his head, sorrow filling his chest as Liren stepped up to him and started tending to his arm.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

The rest of the march to Helms Deep was a quiet, somber march. Why had Gandalf decided to just up and leave with no warning? They needed the white wizard at this fight, since their second greatest source of inspiration was now a sad memory at the bottom of a cliff. They used to be a massive force marching through the land, now they were a small force that seemed to be meandering aimlessly through the desolate land. As they approached Helms Deep, the gate sentries opened the massive doors for them. Eowyn was there immediately to greet them, but was taken aback at the small number of soldiers that returned. Gimli walked up to her with his helmet off to tell her the news. Hamare walked off to the barracks to rest his shoulder, and to sit with his grief. What chance did they have if even Aragorn could be felled in such a way?

They were coming. They knew this as soon as they left Edoras. If Wormtongue went back to his master, Saruman almost certainly knew that they were at Helms Deep. Wormtongue also conveniently decided to exile the vast majority of the men of Rohan, taking care to get rid of the best warriors first. They were long gone by now, leaving the women and children almost helpless to the orcs of Isengard. They all waited for the orcs to come, and take the keep. They all knew that even at Helms Deep, they might not make it to the next week. 

This somber mood went on for the rest of the day and through the night, just sitting and waiting for the inevitable. There was a large host of orcs, nobody knew how large, but they were coming straight to Helms Deep. And all they could do was sit there and wait.

Hamare was called to the wall at midday a couple days after the Edoras group arrived. He sat, watching the east side of the land before them. His shoulder had healed to where he could fight, but he still could not use his bow safely. The only reason that he was at the top of the wall was because he still had an archers eyes, able to see farther than most. A call jolted him out of his mindless watch, and Hamare went to the offending sentry and looked to where he pointed. There was a lone man riding toward them in the distance. He was hunched over his horse, looking to all the world like a refugee who was riding for Helms deep. This man had obviously seen battle, and had come out of it injured. Hamare had to admire his courage, knowing that it was no easy task to ride to the keep, especially in that condition. Hamare could not see who he was, since the man was still too far away, and his face was hidden. One of the advantages of the location of the keep was the massive field in front, which increased sightlines. It stretched out a vast distance, and ended with a swath of trees that marked the end of Fangorn Forest. The man was still at the end of the field, so it would be a while until he reached the gates. Hamare watched for a while, then went to report this to the gatekeeper. He wanted to be close to the gate, so he could also see the man walk in. Hamare was interested to see this man, and see why he was so obviously hurt. 

As he approached the garte, Hamare heard it open. He excused himself from the gatekeeper, and walked to a point where he could see the gate. What he saw made him believe in ghosts all over again. Aragorn, son of Arathorn, the rightful king of Gondor, the man that Hamare watched fall off of a cliff, was walking through the gate leading the late princes’ horse into Helms Deep. Hamare felt a hope begin to rise in his chest again.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Hamare told everybody about Aragorns’ return, and to none of his surprise, nobody believed him. People dont just fall off of cliffs and walk it off. They fall off of cliffs and sleep it off, forever. That is, until Theoden himself walked into the barracks and told them that Aragorn walked into his halls, told them that a massive force was marching to Helms Deep, and they were all going to fight. A soldier voiced concern that there wasn’t enough men to defend the keep well enough, and then quailed in fear when the king glowered at him. “Every man must fight. If they can hold a sword, they must do so in defense of everyone here.”

Hamare went with everyone else to find someone to recruit. His heart broke as he told a family that their father and son would have to come and fight. Hamare promised to personally show them the proper use of a sword as soon as they were ready.

The men went down to the armory, and they started loading up weapons and armor. There was much talk about the situation, and whether or not they would make it through the night. Hamare merely got his weapons and armor, and donned them in silence. Then, Aragorn walked in, followed by Legolas. They started a conversation that nobody paid too much attention to, but everyone started listening when they both started speaking elvish. It was obvious that they did not want anybody to listen in on their conversation, but the men listened in anyways. The conversation was getting heated, until a yell echoed through the room, in english.

“THEN I WILL DIE AS ONE OF THEM!!!”

This outburst came from Aragorn. This left nothing for them to wonder about their conversation. Hamare felt a pit fall in his stomach. Even the hero who survived a cliff fall thought that they were doomed. Hamare felt the room go silent, even as the dwarf walked in and joked about the armor. Any words spoken from then on seemed to go silent too quickly, as if the walls had decided not to echo them back. The men got outfitted for battle, and went to stand on the walls.

*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*.*

Hamare was getting cold. It was in the middle of the night, and there was a storm gathering. Hamare was on the wall, watching for any sort of irregularity. The two men he had found stood near him, still breathing hard from the exercises Hamare had put them through earlier.

Movement caught his eye, bringing him out of his reverie. “There! There’s movement along that ridge!” 

Hamare did not see how that army could ever be considered a “massive host” when he realized that the army was not orcish. In fact, it was elven! Hamare felt a surge of elation, erasing the dread he had felt since he left the armory. The elves were here to help them with this fight! They just might win this. Elven archers were lined up all up and down the inner walls, while the troops of Rohan went to the walls farther forward. 

Then they saw it. The “massive host” that was being talked about. 

“Massive host” was a “Massive understatement.” This army must have been at least ten thousand strong! No amount of elves could help! No amount of men could help! Nothing could! The army stopped several yards in front of the wall. With a rippling effect, the orcs started beating their spears against the ground, chanting something in their fowl language.

An arrow whistled loudly through the night directly into an orcs’ neck. The entire host of orcs became dead silent. With a roar, the orcs ran toward the wall. The battle had begun. 

The battle started out by the book. The orcs ran up to the wall, and got shot by archers. Hamare was not one of the archers. As it turns out, less than a week is not nearly enough to heal a torn shoulder. They were doing a good job keeping the orcs out of the hold, even though they had ladders to get up the wall. Aragorn, Legolas, and Gimli were fighting gloriously. The elf and dwarf seemed to have a game going on, to see who could kill the most orcs. 

Suddenly, a ladder appeared right next to him, knocking out a man near him. He started fighting, not knowing that he was right above the one weakness of Helms Deep, a small culvert in the outer wall.

“What is Aragorn and the Dwarf doing? They’re fighting the orcs in front of the main gate!! That’s suicide!!”

Hamare ran to the wall immediately above the gate and watched as they fought the orcs off, giving the kings men enough time to re-barricade the gate. Legolas appeared right next to him with a rope to pull the two men up.

Hamare ran back to his assigned spot, helping fight off the orcs. They seemed very keen on taking a spot directly beneath Hamare, and seemed to be trying to push the defenders near that area at the same time. Aragorn started yelling in elvish, and pointed. Hamare looked where he was pointing, and dread filled him. There was an orc with a lit torch, running towards the wall. This was obviously a berserker, an orc that could take large amounts of hits, and had only one task. What the task was for this orc, Hamare did not know. But he knew enough to know that he needed to get away from his part of the wall. 

With a mighty cry, Hamare jumped to the side… and slammed into the wall of the cliff, many yards to the side. The wall had come apart in a massive ball of flame, leaving a large hole in the wall. Hamare did not know what had just happened, it was as if the berserker had just lit a fire beneath the wall, and the stone just went up. 

His thoughts were interrupted as orcs appeared in front of him, forcing him to clear his mind and fight. This was merely a small group that managed not to die from the explosion. Killing them all was childs’ play. Then Hamare saw the true battle that he was forcefully removed from.

The host was overwhelming them now. The elves were now leaderless, the men of Rohan were scattered, and there were many cries of “TO THE KEEP! FALL BACK TO THE KEEP!!”

Hamare did not want to stop the fight that he was winning, but he knew that he would not survive unless he moved back. He herded the wounded into the room, fighting off any orc that strayed too close. Hamare saw many men and elves fall in the span of him holding the door, many friends and acquaintances were stopped and slaughtered by the hoards of Isengard. Hamare blocked a blade, and was relieved to see Liren step forward to stab at the orc. Together, they fought off the hoard at the door. Well, they tried to, at least.

When Hamare could not handle any more, he surrendered the door to another soldier. He walked into an adjoining room, feeling that their predicament could not get any worse. He heard voices coming from the end of the room. The king! And Aragorn! They were still alive, and Aragorn was looking distantly at the window, letting in the first light of the new day. At least they would not die in the darkness of night. Aragorn turned to the king, talking urgently. The king seemed to like what Aragorn had to say. He leapt onto his horse, and led a charge out of the door with the cry: “FORTH EORLINGAS!!!!”

Hamare felt a surge of warmth in his heart at these words. Gone were his tears, gone were his fears. He still knew that the battle was lost, but they could still die with honor, with dignity. He would fight beside his king, and they would make the orcs remember this day for generations.

They charged out of the doors, horsemen first, then foot soldiers. The Hornburg sounded, giving more strength to the arms of Hamare, as he slew orc after orc, until the orcs rallied and started to kill more Rohan soldiers than they could afford. Suddenly, gleam of white caught his eye, a horseman on a gleaming horse. Gandalf! Then, to Hamares’ amazement, Eomer rode up next to him, the entire force of the exiled Rohirrim behind them. They all charged the orcs, riding down the steep hill with a mighty call. 

The orcs had no idea what just happened, but they had been making a massacre of the men of Rohan, so these newcomers were of no threat. Or so they thought. The two armies collided, the horses easily scaling the pikes the orcs leveled at them. The orcs were quickly overwhelmed, and they all broke ranks and ran… into the forest of Fanghorn. The men of Rohan stopped short of the forest, clearly remembering the stories that were still told of the trees of Fanghorn. To Hamares’ amazement, the trees began to shake, and the screams of the orcs rang out through the land. The battle of Helms Deep was won.

Theodin rallied his forces, and they started the march back to Edoras to plan out what exactly was going to happen next. Hamare could only hope that they were going to bring retribution to Saruman.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> The original draft was actually pretty rough. I'm glad I did some work on this one. Sorry it was so long, but I wanted to include the battle of Helms Deep in this chapter, so it isn't just the Warg Attack. Hope you liked it!!! Let me know what you thought!!


End file.
